


Red Dawns

by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte/pseuds/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a poem about holding the fort down in Hogwarts while the heroes of the story go camping. from the POV of ginny weasley, revolution girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Dawns

perhaps he,  
the one that starts with h  
and ends with p,  
for so long  
our hero,  
for so long  
hope sounded  
much like  
his name,  
perhaps he  
is dead too.  
then what  
do we wait for,  
and when  
do we stop  
wondering  
if we will  
have to bury  
the dead  
under the stone  
of this castle.

for the first time this month,  
I wake up  
and notice how close  
these turrets are to the sky  
for the first time,  
I don't think of angels  
and heaven - I think  
I am slowly floating  
to hopelessness, hell,  
and my colors are so close  
to the open air, I could fly  
without a broomstick or spell  
drop to my grave,  
maybe he  
has drowned  
water I'll swallow  
quicker than this juice  
to mend my bones.

here is the sky, red  
in my hair, here are the clouds  
on the towels  
I use to mop up blood  
a teacher, a torturer,  
punched a kid  
in the mouth,  
and I hushed him before  
the teacher would hear  
open wounds,  
washed off his red  
and I bear it on my nose.  
blue, black, and bright  
red paint my skin, stitched.  
here is the sky, red  
in our eyes, here is the sky  
bloodshot, worried,  
huddled under  
the same gray  
blanket, thinking the same  
gray thought.

perhaps, Hogwarts  
needs more Gryffindor,  
that hearty coat  
of arms to drench  
the cement,  
that bitter blue  
above needs  
red dawns, red  
children standing  
below the sun.  
burning to the  
third degree, we need  
the three Gryffindors.  
war needs me,  
but not as much  
as other reds,  
I accept  
nothing less  
than hope.


End file.
